


Tell Me About It

by its_mike_kapufty



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Sex Toys, mentions of internalized shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty
Summary: One of the biggest drawbacks of being incomplete without your best friend is the (very intense) fear of missing out.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 93
Kudos: 196





	Tell Me About It

**Author's Note:**

> Assert dominance by ~~maintaining eye contact with your neighbor while you shower~~ posting a pwp in the same day they read their own fanfic.
> 
> Self beta'd, so I might've missed some stuff. Sorry if so. Enjoy!

It wasn’t planned as much as it was coincidence that Link’s package arrives the same day Rhett leaves. Lucky, sure, but not orchestrated.

Cole’s birthday meant that Rhett had packed a bag and left as soon as classes let out, making the drive back to Buies Creek begrudgingly solo. The band-aid of their farewell had been ripped off in the usual quick-bitter way, both unaccustomed to nights apart from one another and knowing it would go faster if they didn’t make a whole  _ thing  _ out of it.

It's late Friday night. As people tend to party elsewhere and only come back to the heart of campus to crash, the dorm hall’s weekend thrum is a low hush at best. Link’s laptop is playing an 80’s hip hop “mix” that includes a dizzying amount of A Tribe Called Quest, the vent in the corner of the ceiling gushes cool air even though he’s already chilly, and one of his neighbors has sprayed a nauseating amount of cheap cologne—most likely to drown the stench of weed, which isn’t working.

And in his boxers and feeling quite small, Link sits at the top rung of their bunk’s ladder with the contents of the package in his lap: a green dildo.

Well, technically the toy website had called it an “anal dildo”—a phrase that had morphed in his head to “armadillo” after glancing at the shapes of the words countless times over the course of weeks. Which… that’s kinda cute, in a way? Takes some of the bite out of reality, if used as a nickname. Just a sleek little green “armadillo”… designed to go up his butt.

They’d also included a complementary packet of lubricant, as if Link wasn’t already out of his comfort zone. He’d just planned on using his spit, starting out nice and basic and natural-from-his-body, and then they’d thrown this innocuous lavender sampler at him like he knew what he was doing.

He blinks down at the two lewd items on his bare thighs.

His stare gradually slides over to his phone at his hip.

It’s not like he would use these things anywhere near Rhett, physically, but there’s a very basic instinct in him that begs,  _ “Tell your best friend. You tell each other everything, just shoot him a text. You got a sex toy, he’d be jealous!” _

“Or pissed,” Link mutters, but he’s already picking up his phone. 

Goosebumps rail over his exposed legs thanks to the needless air conditioning, and a cold chill hits him as he thumbs open his and Rhett’s text log. Funny, that they don’t text much. They’re always together.

_ Hey. All done with family stuff? _

Rhett must be glued to his phone, either burnt out on socializing or laying in bed the way he does before sleep. 

_ yeah. thank goodness lol _

_ cole got some really cool camping _ _  
_ _ gear from the folks. really put the _ _  
_ _ waterproof watch i bought him  _ _  
_ _ to shame _

This is so awkward. This is  _ so awkward.  _

Unable to launch into the confession right away, Link is forced to play “considerate ear”, wishing Rhett had just gone with a simple “yeah, what’s up,” and not forced them to circle the parking lot.

_ Nah, I’m sure he’ll love it. _

_ He knows you don’t got as _ _  
_ _ much money as your parents. _

_ i guess _

_ blegh _

_ i’m hiding in my bedroom now but _ _  
_ _ dad fell asleep blasting a rerun of _ _  
_ _ 700 club. i got my headphones in _

_ home sweet home _

_ Lol. Yeah, sounds  _ _  
_ _ good to be back. _

_ sure lol _

_ what are you up to? _

“Do it, just do it,” Link whispers to himself in vehemence. His heart flutters in between seismic beats that threaten to toss him to the floor, and the spike of adrenalized awareness as he types isn’t something he’s felt since he’d told his first crush he’d liked her in fifth grade.

_ Actually… I got something today. _

_ Sitting in bed with it right now. _

Waiting is torture, even when Rhett’s responding promptly. Why can’t they skip a minute down the road?

_??? _

_ what is it? _

_ Don’t laugh, okay? _

_ hmmkay _

_ You know we had that talk  _ _  
_ _ once about how like _

_ We grew up being taught it’s _ _  
_ _ bad, but we both kinda feel like _

_ Sex ain’t sinful? _

_ holy crap _

_ yes _

There’s an odd bubbling—an  _ effervescence _ in Link’s innards that fizzes like a soda pop, and he doesn’t try to fight the giddy-impish smile on his lips now that he knows Rhett is intrigued and not put off.

_ I bought a sex toy. Lol _

_ whaaaat lol _

_ no friggin way, brother _

_ i thought that’s where you were _ _  
_ _ goin with this but it’s WILD to see _ _  
_ _ it typed out _

_ Lmao! _

_ Trust me, I know. _

_ what kind?? _

_ Um.  _

Their conversation last month hadn’t discriminated; it had been  _ Rhett  _ who’d mentioned it so casually—that men’s bodies were designed to derive pleasure from prostate stimulation, that evolution had made it a biological option for men, and so why would that be a bad thing to exploit? Sex is sex is sex.

_ You promise you won’t laugh? _

_ dude _

_ i’m sitting up now LOL _

_ too invested to judge _

_ please tell me _

He would be. Link can envision him clearly: hunched over the glow of his phone, entirely rapt on the screen with bated eyes reflecting white light, 110% owned by this conversation. He’d always been the one eager to dip his toes in the sort of stuff their upbringings had denied them, and so it’s probably thrillingly  _ bizarre _ for Link to be the one to initiate it. Rhett’s living vicariously through him right now.

_ I was too nervous to buy any _ _  
_ _ of the stuff you like… fuck? _

_ That you put your dick in, I mean _

_ i get that _

_ so what’d you settle on? _

_ I got a dildo _

_...designed for asses _

_ WHAT LOL _

_ omg _

Link’s face burns fiercely, but he’s still smiling, so he can’t be all that upset.

_ You said you wouldn’t laugh! _

_ DUDE _

_ no fucking way _

_ you’re yankin me right now! _

_ link!! _

Something about Rhett saying his name like that—like he just completed some wild dare—is strangely gratifying. Like he’d get congratulatory slaps on the back and hoots of laughter were Rhett really here, and so Link keeps grinning.

_ I swear I’m not kidding! _

_ send a pic! _

_ No!! LOL _

_ You can see it when you come _ _  
_ _ home tomorrow, if you’re  _ _  
_ _ that curious! _

_ dammit! i wanna see _

_ what _

_ like _

_ HOW _

_ is it big?? _

Link considers it, glancing down past his phone. It ain’t  _ small.  _

_ I guess? Gosh _

_ i can’t believe this _

Neither can Link, in a way. Rhett’s way more excited than he thought he’d be, but any sign of rebellion from either of them would definitely stir him into a frenzy like this, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

_ so uh _

_ was it good? _

_ Oh uh _

_ I haven’t used it yet. _

_ dude _

_ what are you waiting for?? _

“I wanted to tell you first” sounds really freakin’ weird, so Link changes the truth. Just a little.

_ Was gonna do it right before bed. Idk _

_ it’s your bedtime like. right now _

_ Yeah… _

_ Sooo I guess I’m gonna… _ _  
_ _ go for a test ride, or something? LOL _

_ jesus dude lmao go for it _

_ have fun _

_ I’ll try?? Lol so weird. _

_ Text you in the morning. _

_ yes please haha _

And that’s that.

Link clicks his phone to sleep and gathers his materials for his new self-expedition. He scoots up onto his mattress and ceremoniously places his phone aside, and is promptly left with the two daunting items which have the shared sole purpose of bringing him to orgasm.

He’d fucked his fist plenty of times. His erection fits nicely into his curled palm, and so it’s easy to excuse it as a method of release. Having paraphernalia—synthetics and liquid, invented for the unmistakable indulgence of human sexual pleasure? There’s a deeply-ingrained part of him that whispers how impolite it is to own such things, yet he knows that—objectively—this is also fine and normal. Just… an  _ advanced  _ method of release. Upgraded.

Link holds the dildo in his hand. It’s a little cool to the touch and seems to be made of some sort of stiff rubber that gives a little under squeezes. While the green shaft is decidedly  _ not  _ a veiny replica of a penis, it’s still incredibly phallic, and so the fizzing bubbles in his gut change into tiny sparks firing off, seemingly-centralized around his groin:

_ This is going to be inside of me, to make me feel good.  _

Why is that so arousing?

He isn’t quite sure what he’s doing, but he’s alone and has the leisure of exploration at his own pace, and that’s the last comfort he needs to lay back and wiggle out of his boxers. Without any further pomp, he begins.

The first thing he discovers with his fingers is that his asshole is dry.

Not, like,  _ bone- _ dry, but his own soft pucker which he’s never touched before is drier than he’d assumed it would be when he’d showered and felt around while scrubbing that morning. Definitely not susceptible to being penetrated without help.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Link says softly, retrieving the packet of lube. 

Balancing it carefully, he tears it open with unsure tugs and startles when it oozes a bit of silky liquid towards his bare chest, which he blessedly catches in a cupped hand at the last millisecond. It’s not the entire contents of the little pouch but it is enough to rub around in his palm experimentally. 

Jesus, it’s slick. That’ll feel nice, right?

He brings it to his face and sniffs. Odorless, too. 

With tedious maneuvering until he’s on his side ( _ How do people do this? _ ), Link manages to angle his hand behind himself and wipe the wet over his hole. Feels kinda clinical. The laptop’s playlist buffers between songs and Link chuckles at himself as he is in the moment, ‘cause this is all a little ridiculous—like a baby applying powder to their own crack, or somethin’.

He’s definitely getting hard, though, now sporting a semi that’s dragging across his sheets in a slow arc to his stomach, so. Maybe this  _ is  _ how it’s done?

Of course, if this fails he’ll just jack it and go to sleep, and that’ll be fine. No harm done.

In the meantime—

He plays with himself, familiarizes with the strange feel of the ridges and folds of skin. They’re sensitive, and he finds that a flat petting motion is kinda nice. Makes him curious for more, at least, and so a wet finger begins poking and prodding, growing braver with the prospect of breaching that hurdle of muscle.

The inside should be sorta wet too, right?

For a few minutes this is how he luxuriates: toying with his fingers, pressing in and retreating slowly. Building himself up and allowing time to breathe and come back down. The room is still cold, but as he flirts with his body and learns about it in peaceful solitude, he finds he doesn’t really mind anymore. He goes back for a few drops of lube once. Twice.

Before long, he’s able to slip in and out of himself without  _ too much  _ resistance. That’s the goal, right? 

So… he’s ready…?

He’s also  _ definitely _ hard. Very much so, and it’s wild to think that it’s because he was all up on his own ass. Men really  _ were  _ built to enjoy this, if his erection prodding against his stomach is any indication.

“Alright.”

Link turns his attention to the dildo, which has been soaking up his body heat beside his armpit. 

“...Alright.”

He takes it by the flared base, the lube threatening to slip it from his grip. That doesn’t stop him from coating it with some meticulous strokes, ensuring every part of it is at least damp.

“Here goes,” he whispers, bracing his clean hand on the rail of the bed. He brings the dildo to the most private place on his person and notches the head against himself. 

Pushes. 

It goes in a little.

_ Gosh, it feels huge already? Weird and intrusive and…  _

Pushes.

_ Yeah. It’s gigantic. Like it tripled in size the second it realized it was on duty. _

But Link doesn’t stop.

He closes his eyes and sinks it in until he can feel two things prominently: his knuckles meeting his cheeks, and that he is definitely  _ full. _

Now, he just needs to—

_ Bzzzt. _

Link’s head falls forward to stare at his phone. He’s  _ kinda in the middle of something.  _ Whoever it is, their text can wait.

He manages to re-center by acknowledging his begging hard-on at his abs, letting his own need sweep him back up selfishly. This is about pleasure. About experimenting, and breaking down barriers, and finding new ways to enjoy—

_ Bzzzt. _

_ Bzzzt. _

“Dammit,” Link grunts, snatching up the offending device to give a death scowl to the name of the intruder of this sacred session.

It’s Rhett. 

But…? Rhett  _ knows.  _ They’d literally just…?

Maybe it’s an emergency. A small groan dies in Link’s throat while he unlocks it and checks their log. 

_ so uhh _

_ i know you said goodnight _ _  
_ _ already, but i gotta know _

_ was it good? _

Grimacing, Link fires off a response through a harsh blush, aware that he isn’t giving it the filter and critical thought it deserves.

_ I ain’t even done, Rhett _

When he sets the phone back down, he’s ready to lose himself in the act—give his arousal some concrete attention to ease the burgeoning ache from so much teasing—but Rhett apparently doesn’t want him to have any alone time.

_ wait _

_ you’re doin it right now? _

The worst part of this is that Rhett  _ knows  _ Link can’t postpone his response. He’s never been able to ignore him like that. Cocking his jaw so his teeth don’t align, Link huffs and hammers out an awkward response, feeling a bit like a fly caught in a web in his awkward position.

_ Yes, dude. _

_ wow _

_ lol _

Link rolls his eyes. He’s in the middle of typing  _ If you’re THAT curious, I’ll text you once I’m done  _ when Rhett texts again.

_ how is it? _

Um. Huh.

_ What?? _

_ like _

_ does it feel good...? _

_ I’m literally _

_ Rhett, you caught me right _ _  
_ _ as I was getting into it _

_ Idk yet? _

With those embarrassingly-telling confessions sent out, Link frowns at their conversation and waits.

And waits.

Rhett doesn’t respond, and considering how quickly he’d been messaging just moments ago, he either put down his phone or realized just how strangely intrusive he was being on Link’s  _ masturbation session _ . Either way it’s a welcome reprieve, and Link flops his head to his pillow gratefully.

He tugs gently on the dildo buried inside of him, causing his dick to twitch in interest.

_ Now,  _ he can finally—

_ “Siiing me back home, with a song I used to hear…” _

Link stops dead. 

That’s Rhett’s ringtone. That’s Rhett.

He jerks his head up hard and gawks at his phone, hair falling in his face.

That’s gotta be a butt dial. Rhett’ll realize it any second now and hang up, and the song won’t keep going, and he’ll text and apologize and say how awkward that must’ve been.

_ “Maaake my old memories come alive…” _

Rhett’s not hanging up.

This isn’t a butt dial.

With unsure fingers, Link collects his phone like it’s an injured bird, flipping it over to stare at the selfie of himself and Rhett on the screen.

_ Really?! _

Well. Rhett knows what’s going on. It’s up to Link to decide whether he’s okay with this—talking to his lifelong best friend while what’s essentially a prosthetic  _ dick  _ is shoved up his ass. While he’s having sex with himself.

It’s a bit unnerving how easy a decision it is, regardless.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Link murmurs into the mic, and Rhett’s warm laugh rings through the speaker pressed to his ear.

_ “Sorry! Sorry, just… I feel like I’m missing out,”  _ Rhett muses. It’s strange hearing him through a phone. Especially  _ now,  _ yeah, but specifically it’s the close words and hushed voice, like Rhett’s huddled up under blankets in bed, trying to be quiet so he won’t get caught.

Seems fitting for the occasion, Link figures.

“‘Missing out’,” Link grunts, stoking up a nervous laugh. “I’ve got a toy up my ass right now, dude. Dunno how much you wanna be experiencing this.”

_ “Enough to call and ask you to tell me what it’s like,”  _ Rhett hums, and Link presses his unamused lips to a thin line.

“Why’re you so fascinated?”

_ “I dunno, Link! We don’t do this sort of thing, and now you’re suddenly… doin’ it. And I know it’s weird to be so focused on it, but like… I dunno. I feel left out.” _

“Do you ever listen to yourself? Good gosh.”

_ “Well, how would you feel if our positions were flipped?” _

Crap, he really knows exactly what to say to get Link to empathize with him. ‘Cause yeah—he’d feel left out, too, even if he can’t exactly explain how that makes any sense. It’s a “first”, he supposes, and they don’t have many “firsts” that aren’t shared. Even if this one is weirdly intense. 

“So, what,” Link clears his throat, shutting his eyes and ignoring how strung-out he is, taut in every direction. “You wanna, like… stay on the phone, ya weirdo?”

_ “I mean...” _

Rhett takes a second to ponder. Yet another opportunity arises where he could backpedal and admit how bat-crap crazy he’s acting. Link’s given him plenty of outs on this path already, so if he really feels  _ that  _ strongly about it...

_ “It’s not like we’re in the same room or anything.” _

Link absorbs that. Lets his eyes flit around under his closed lids, jumping about in thought.

“Gracious, Rhett. What do you want me to  _ do?” _

_ “Nothin’. Just… I dunno,”  _ that answer comes once again. 

It might be Link’s imagination, but it sounds like Rhett’s getting quieter and closer every time he speaks, quieter and closer—honing in on the snug space they’ve created in the miles between.

_ “Tell me how it feels...? I won’t even say nothin’. Just. Talk to the room, or whatever. I just wanna hear your thoughts on it.” _

Link swims inside his head, allowing this way and that in a rocking meander. 

It’s not that weird, what Rhett’s requesting. Is it? Maybe he can start small. And he can always stop if it gets too crass. No one can force him to do this—not even Rhett.

“I’m like… I’m so full,” Link chuckles, and it’s met instantly with a relieved laugh on the other end of the line as they crumble to the premise together.

_ “‘Full’? Like you ate a big meal?” _

“Nah. More like—like there ain’t any more room left in me.  _ Down there.” _

It’s humiliatingly barren a thing to say and probably supplies Rhett with all sorts of mental images he can’t possibly be prepared for. Link’s expecting an  _ “eww”  _ or a  _ “too much information,”  _ but Rhett just laughs again and follows it with a fascinated  _ “Huh.”  _

That really is the sort of detail he wants, then. 

Alright. Link can handle that much, he thinks.

“I haven’t moved it yet. It… feels real big. I’m kinda scared I’ll hurt myself.”

_ “Is it painful?” _

“No. A little, like, uncomfortable? Definitely strange. Not painful though.”

_ “Why you worried ‘bout hurtin’ yourself, then?” _

“Do I gotta remind you I’ve never done this?” Link bites testily, side-eyeing the phone like he can glare at Rhett through the wi-fi. There’s a tickled snort on Rhett’s part, and Link knows exactly which facial expression goes with it. “I used a lot of lube, though, so it’s probably—”

_ “Where’d you get lube?!”  _ Rhett blurts in a tone that borders offended.

“It came with the purchase. Free.”

_ “Oh, someone lucked out, huh? I can hear you smiling.” _

“Not smiling,” Link asserts, even though he assuredly is.

_ “Well, you should start—start doin’ it, then. You’ll be okay. Just gotta get used to it, I think.” _

“Yeah. I figured.”

There’s a swollen pause. Link nuzzles half of his face down into his pillow, face hot.

“You want me to start…?”

_ “Yeah. I’m comin’ back tomorrow and you won’t get another night alone for who-knows-how-long, man.” _

“You could just go to a hotel for me,” Link smiles into his pillow.

_ “Link.” _

The heat that flushes up through his neck is very real, leagues more intimidating than the neglected toy at his back, and is entirely due to the simmer Rhett had put on his name. Somewhere between a tease, a command, and a warning—Rhett had said it that way with intent, like he knew what it would do to his compromised best friend.

The inappropriate thrill that follows is misplaced and confusing. 

Link breathes warm into the fabric against his mouth. Licks his lips.

“I’m shy.”

_ “Put me on speaker, brother. Forget I’m here.” _

Literally impossible. Still, it’s a good idea, and Link timidly taps their conversation into the room itself, setting Rhett by his head. 

“Done.”

Rhett doesn’t answer, but there’s a rustling noise like blankets being moved around, and so he knows the connection is stable. He’s just giving Link false privacy so he can stop wasting both their time.

It’s now or never.

“‘Kay,” he mumbles at the helm of forced relaxation. He’s still aroused—that’s not the problem. It’s as if Rhett’s “presence” made him tighten up around the toy, and when he gives it a pull to try and begin a slow rhythm on himself, it’s an uphill battle. “Oh, gosh,” he whispers, going slow and careful.

Rhett doesn’t say anything to that, but in all likelihood he’s desperate to ask. Link throws him a bone, feeling out his role in this.

“I’m uhh… pretty tight,” he admits. The words are barely off his tongue before he’s wincing at them and shaking his head in disdain. 

There’s a silence that weighs heavy while Link pushes into himself. Grimaces, pulls out. Pushes in, shifts, pulls out, all painstakingly cautious. The dildo moves just fine if Link puts sufficient muscle behind it, stretching himself on the toy and trying not to feel like he’s managing to do it wrong.

In. Out. 

In, out. A little faster.

“I’m—” Link’s voice dies in a breathy sort of way, ashamed to narrate his own depravity. The push he needs is when Rhett is patient with him, politely noiseless in his bed in Buies Creek. If Link doesn’t fill the airwaves, neither of them will. His wrist crooks and angles, dips and impales him on the would-be cock in slow, foreign rolls. Link fights down more nervous laughter, “I’m fucking myself.”

He’s pretty sure that if Rhett could hear his smile, then he can hear his blush, too.

“Layin’ on my side. Naked,” he adds, because he knows Rhett’s intrigued about the mechanics of it. Is asking for these things so that he can experience them for himself, too—imagine what it would be like, were he in Link’s skin. “Takin’ it from behind. Obviously.  _ Crap,  _ this is weird. I dunno what you wanna hear, Rhett.”

_ “You’re doin’ great,”  _ he reassures instantly, close and quiet even on speaker. Something about it makes Link bolder.

“It doesn’t really feel good though?” Link thinks aloud with a furrowed brow. “I mean… I’m definitely not gonna… y’know.  _ Finish,  _ like this.”

When Rhett hums, Link knows he’s debating whether he should keep participating, and he can’t justify the relief he feels when Rhett clears his throat. It is, however, promptly quashed when he hears what Rhett has to say.

_ “Are you hard?” _

“Wha—huh?” 

Yes. Yes, very much so. There’s a hint of cool smearing on his tummy that confirms he’s been hard for a while now since the stimulation has outweighed the relief, but why in the  _ world _ —

_ “I think it’s easier to find the prostate when it swells, aaand it swells if you’re horny.” _

How in fuck’s name did they get here? This toy was supposed to be a private journey for Link to take in order to help break down some mental barriers about right and wrong, not the messed-up, nightmare-fuel, friendship-destroying, cheek-searing catastrophe it’s turning out to be.  _ “Are you hard?" _ And asked so casually, good gosh.

“Y-Yeah, man,” Link scowls. It’s his ears’ turn to be hot. “I’m hard. I knew I had to be in the right mindset for this, I’m not stupid!”

_ “I don’t think you’re stupid,”  _ Rhett states back at him.  _ "I just want to help." _

"Well, either way this isn't working." Link's wrist goes limp, relaxing the toy inside of him. It's hard to put into words how silly he feels, impaled by his own curiosity yet not enjoying it.

_ "Keep it up for a bit, maybe? Women need time to reach climax through penetration,"  _ Rhett thinks aloud,  _ "and no, I'm not calling you a woman."  _

Link snorts. "You'd be enjoying this more if I was."

_ "Yep,"  _ Rhett laughs.  _ "Just ignore me again and I'll stay quiet. Be patient with yourself." _

Right. Patient, says the guy who's hounding Link to fuck himself out of some unified-mind desire to live vicariously. Is this the kinda stuff Rhett would be telling himself, if he were the one with…? 

Best not to think about that.

"Fine." 

Nudging the phone farther away despite it not having crept closer, Link heaves a deep sigh and gives his dick a half-hearted check-in. He's hard, but in a way that kinda feels inconvenient; a boner popped in front of the entire class during a presentation.

With another sigh which he sorta hopes Rhett hears, he pulls on the dildo again and finds himself clenched around it stubbornly. Using steady force, he slips it in and out in a curious application of what little he's learned thus far—and miraculously, there's a  _ sensation.  _

A ticklish massage of one spot. It isn't powerful, but it doesn't  _ need _ to be to jolt Link against the bed, his eyes pinned wide.

Part of him had started to doubt this was really a thing at all, like maybe guys who enjoyed…  _ butt stuff _ were imagining it or something. He sucks in his bottom lip and stares at that stain on the ceiling that reminds him of a dog's head and does not overthink the giddy burn on his cheeks or the wild rush in his core begging him to hit that spot again. 

He obeys that desire, pushing into himself and rubbing it with the head of the toy, and it feels better than it had the first time—a squirming newness that promises to turn into something melted and gasping, if he keeps it up.

Fascinating. Like, sincerely. This is mind-boggling. 

He kinda wishes Rhett weren't freakin'  _ listening to him, _ 'cause what if he can somehow hear the silent slip of skin? But Link clamps his eyes and teeth closed and begins fucking himself in a slow roll, ignoring the phone at his elbow. He's chagrined with unpractice and it's awkward as anything he's ever done, but his body forgives him.  _ Rewards him _ for every thrust. Makes him wonder how good it might feel if he were seasoned. Maybe with time.

It's easy to slide into the rhythm of it. 

He's blushing from his cheeks to his calves and hyper-attentive on remaining quiet, and that combination really hammers home how big of a virgin he is—forces him to acknowledge it. Even alone and with a length of plastic, with nobody above him, he feels small and strewn out and can't stop thinking about what he would look like if someone photographed him right now. 

Would it be poster-worthy? What kind of people would enjoy seeing him like this, completely bared and vulnerable?

And why does considering the answer to that question make him go harder and faster...? 

It's a scary breach of self-control, and he rides a few more pumps before easing off to collect his wits. The room isn't cold anymore—or if it is, he can't seem to tell. He hasn't said anything in a while, though, and that little worm in his head called  _ Rhett is waiting  _ nibbles him to speak.

"You—" Link's throat is thick and hoarse. He clears it with a quick cough. "You still there?"

_ "Yeah,"  _ Rhett answers fast, like he's been waiting.  _ "Any progress?" _

"Um… yeah," Link huffs, running his free hand through his bangs. "Yeah, definitely."

_ "Really?! So you're feelin' it now, or…?" _

"Mmhmm." Link hadn't meant to hum like that, tendrils of sensual relaxation in his tone. It's a symptom of taking himself, and he's sorry Rhett had to hear it. "I get the appeal."

The line is silent for long enough that Link is about to check and make sure he didn't accidentally hit a button and hang up, but then Rhett chuckles softly.

_ "You gonna describe it to me or not?" _

Link should be irked or mad or even vaguely annoyed at that snark. He isn't. He closes his eyes and smirks, 'cause that aura of  _ this is a super weird thing to do for most friends, but we aren't like most friends _ has finally settled over the situation. If Rhett hasn't run yet, then neither will Link.

Scared to say anything too loudly (paranoia tells him someone in the hall is listening with their ear pressed against the door, and then the whole campus will know that Link Neal likes anal), he grabs his phone and turns off speaker mode. He smooshes it against his cheek and mumbles, "Can't you imagine it on your own?"

_ "Whoa—you got real close,"  _ laughs Rhett, equally close, and if Link blots out the world it's mockably easy to pretend they exist in a bubble together, outside of sight, space, and time.  _ "Not really. I know it don't feel like jackin' off, man." _

No, it doesn't. At all. 

"Like… jerking off with your butt," Link muses, and Rhett bursts into laughter if only because the smile is obvious in the sentiment. "I'm serious! I dunno how to describe it."

_ "Well. Does it hurt?" _

"No. It was uncomfortable at first. But not painful."

_ "Huh. Is it… like… big?" _

This guy. Jesus. 

"Yeah, Rhett," Link deadpans, causing more intrigued titters in his ear. "It's a dildo, not a—a pencil, or some crap."

_ "Sorry! Just curious, s'all."  _ He gives himself time to pick out another question, making little sucking noises on his teeth that are weirdly distracting.  _ "Do you think you could cum because of it?" _

Gosh. Between the two of them, he's always been the one to speak frankly—stepping into the role of deconstruction like it's tailored for him,  _ embracing  _ it in a matter-of-fact way that causes Link's neck to flush when it lets him say the word "cum" without hesitation.

_ "Link? You there?" _

"Yeah, gimme a second. Thinkin' about it." Pardoning himself, he gives the toy a little push with the pad of his pointer finger and his body leaps right back to life, ready to commit. Link's sticky swallow must carry to the mic, 'cause Rhett sucks in a small breath. 

_ "You doin' it right now…?"  _ he whispers. 

It's alarmingly natural when that last barrier breaks, and Link dissolves into chuckles again.

"Yeah, dude. Why you whisperin'?"

_ "'Cause I don't wanna answer any questions, if my family overhears!" _ Rhett laughs with him, and for some reason it isn't weird. If they'd always considered one another the other half of their singular being, maybe it's  _ not _ weird that it's so effortless? Masturbation requires at least one person, after all.

_ "I'm dyin' t'know what it feels like,"  _ Rhett confesses. Link can visualize him shaking his head at disbelief of himself.  _ "Not 'cause I wanna like… take a real dick or anything—" _

"What, you assume I do?"

_ "I'm just sayin'! That same impulse that made you buy it? It's kinda driving me crazy right now. I'm so damn curious, Link. This is so new for us."  _

Yeah, there it is. "Us". The collective. 

He makes a noise that's probably supposed to be a laugh, though it comes out a bit breathless. _ "Can you at least  _ try  _ to describe it?" _

Yeah, Link can. And he will, but he can't flat out give an affirmative to that without it coming across teasably in his current state. Best dive right in.

"Don't laugh."

_ "I'll really try not to." _

"So… it's like there's this spot, up in there. Like a—" Despite his demand, Link chuckles. To his credit, patient-for-once Rhett doesn't make a peep. "Like a button or something. And the more you play with it… I dunno. It feels good."

_ "Like how?"  _ Rhett asks in a way that sounds like he's talking to himself. 

"Like… good. It's like a warm, tight, uh," Link falters on the words, face hot as he realizes what  _ else _ those words might very well paint a picture of in Rhett's head. He scrambles, "It's like a tension that keeps building, but in a good way. Ridin' a—crap, poor word choices—uhh, balancing on this, like… wave of heat."

He gives Rhett the opportunity to cut in. Rhett doesn't. Link licks his lips and huffs a laugh. 

"And you really don't want it to stop."

The line itself quivers—the airwaves plucked and held under a heavy silence, pinned with potential energy. When Rhett speaks again it's low and deep but no longer a whisper.

_ "Then don't stop." _

Link twists in the sheets, giving his unusual position a moment to breathe before resting his head on the phone on the pillow, clamping it in place. "You askin' me to try and get there? While you listen?"

_ "Yeah. Pretty much,"  _ Rhett monotones, and when Link lets out another bewildered laugh, he doesn't join him.  _ "I just wanna see if you can, man. You make it sound real good, it'd be crazy if it worked for ya. Two ways of gettin' off? Dang." _

...again, it's not like Rhett is  _ really  _ here. He could always mute his end of the line and—well. Maybe not, maybe that would defeat the point of Rhett wanting to hear about this whole thing. But he can at least be quiet as he climaxes. He's a pro at that part.

"Fine. Just… be quiet, okay? It might take a while though."

_ "S'fine. My phone's plugged in." _

"I won't talk again unless I've… reached a verdict," Link promises, and Rhett gives a quick  _ "'kay"  _ before everything is still and silent. It's a good transition for changing gears and beginning the work at his back again, finally paying mind to the strung-out neglect in his thighs and groin.

It's instant; that wobbly warmth returns and gives Link permission to succumb to it, stoking and spreading with every hit, each one a breath less gentle than the last. Shutting out the dorm allows him to bask in it, focus on it—find out what hinders it (when he puts too much emphasis on holding the toy in a "proper" way) and what feels like it could crank that simmer up to a boil (when he crooks this way and gets sloppy with it). 

The looser the better, is his finding. Go figure that he has to go against his instinct to get the most out of this.

Other tells he's on the right track: his toes curl into his comforter and he knows and feels silly for it, his vision glazes out across the ceiling, and he really can't defend why he wants  _ more, harder—more,  _ past the simple truth that he  _ wants _ it and knows that, too. The harder he fucks himself the better it feels, and so chasing it to its death is the obvious conclusion, right? That's what he would say if he were able to put it into words. If there was someone else here, watching rapt and asking with large eyes why he would possibly want to pound his own daylights in.

That tension—it threatens to drive him stupid with how much he wants something to give, muscles pumping to scatter obscene shocks of ticklish fire through his nerves over and over. If he just goes harder, maybe—

The absurd thought to change positions flits through Link's head:  _ if I were on my back I could really get some hard hits.  _ And he pictures his gangly legs up, feet braced on the wall or ceiling, and the thought of being so goddamn  _ exposed  _ like that both snuffs out his effort to do it and imposes some imaginary other over him.

Watching, hands on his thighs—participating? Doin' all the work, no toy or hands needed, just...

"Fuck," Link trembles against his own wishes. It's a slip-up. Barely-there, impressive that Rhett latches onto it and breaks his vow of silence.

_ "Yeah? Feel good?" _

This time, Link doesn't stop. 

He's fucking himself and he's in a silent moan, riding a wave Rhett isn't allowed to hear, straining against the phone until his teeth click on the screen.

It isn't directed at Link, but it doesn't stop him from hearing it when Rhett mutters, far-off,  _ "Jesus Christ." _

"I—I'm—" Link starts, bicep still working in vicious jerks to turn him into a speechless mess "in front of" Rhett. He lets it, though, caving and curling in, unwilling to finish the thought.

_ "Feel good, buddy?"  _ rumbles Rhett. 

Link nods like he'll see it, too bad he can't—no, shit— _ thank God _ he can't, he means. 

"Y-Yeah." Stuttering in time with the thrusts. Winded. Those are details Rhett didn't need, but if Link is honest, he's proud that he's as coherent as he is given how depraved he feels. He's melting from the inside out.

_ "Good." _

What the hell does that…? Link flagrantly ignores him—Rhett's just being Rhett. He's hard enough to decode when Link  _ isn't _ having his wits bucked out of him by a toy.

And gosh, speaking of: there's something creeping up on him. He can feel it lurking around the edges of his center, something so bright and hot that it'll reduce him to a shaking body, unable keep consideration that he isn't  _ really  _ alone after all, that he shouldn't forget consequences because he'll have to come back down and face them, that he shouldn't lose control—

He ignores that, too.

"Can you hear it?" Link husks, eyes screwed shut, "Can you hear me getting fucked?"

A shaky inhale hits him in the ear, and Rhett's admittedly-lovely timbre fills him in,  _ "Been able to hear it for a while now. Fuck, Link." _

The filter breaks.

"It's so good," Link whines, reveling in his near-ecstasy, sucked under by it and turning over in it, carried and owned. So long as he keeps up the brutal pace, this feeling is only going to continue, isn't it? That in itself is mouthwatering, sex is so  _ good,  _ why should he care if Rhett knows it, too? "Oh, shit—oh, my gosh!"

More airy sounds in his ear, like blankets moving, and a part of him he knows he'll bury once he's sober desperately hopes Rhett is, at the very least, fondling himself. Right now, right there with him, knowing on some level how good it is to experience pleasure.

"Talk to me," Link begs quickly, abandoning pretenses out of sudden fear of doing this alone, and Rhett responds on the heels of the plea, eager to tell him he isn't.

_ "Don't wanna distract you." _

"You w-won't."

_ "Can't believe how you sound right now, Link. Barely holdin' it together,"  _ Rhett hazards elbowing him. Normally Link would tell him to shut up, but the honeyed chuckle—patient and oozing with confidence, even now—pours fire on Link's gut. 

Anything and everything, if it helps. Just use it. Get there, 'cause it's gonna be shattering.

In lieu of words, Link lets out a needy moan so not-meant-for-his-best-friend that it sears his cheeks as it leaves his throat, drawn-long and teased shy with every thrust.

_ "I—good lord,"  _ Rhett gravels out, rolling into the words shoulder-first in a smolder.

Link takes that, too. Pounds into himself harder to produce a series of tiny whimpers, each a punctuation mark to a surge of  _ yes.  _

_ "Link." _

"Fuck, Rhett— _ fuck!" _

_ "I really want you to cum." _

Link sucks in air through his teeth, thighs fluttering, pressure building that he doesn't understand but refuses to fight—

_ "Please—" _

Rhett's voice gives out, and in a blessed sliver of cognizance that nicks sharp through Link's entirety, he realizes it's because Rhett is close, too.

He's here in this, too, and he's not stopping.

_ "Please let me hear you orgasm. You don't have to be loud, but I wanna hear you, please, Link?" _

Link isn't even in control of himself anymore, eyes half-lidded. He lets out a soft whine that Rhett clutches close, drenches him in encouragement—

_ "You can do it. Cum on yourself. Lemme hear you moan for it, moan for me—" _

Link bucks twice and grinds on his palm, shredding into a high cry far louder than requested—

_ "Oh, fuck, Link, yeah? Me too, baby. You're so tight and good, so good." _

Tripping over his own release, it doubles back and slams into Link with force enough to make him black out, reduce him to a wet, shivering, shaking mess in his bed that rides out aftershocks like that's all he's good for, solely because Rhett hadn't been able to restrain himself.

He'd given in, in a way much more humiliating which ended up putting spots in Link's vision and a huge mess on his bedspread. 

Link pants and gasps for breath, reeling and boneless, and his state is pretty much echoed in the huffs Rhett is contributing. 

Together, they catch their breath until a misshapen quiet hangs over the remnants of their collective, horny decision. Link can almost see the gears turning in Rhett's panicked brain:  _ how to backtrack, how to say I didn't mean it, how to explain? _

Right on cue, Rhett coughs.

_ "I, umm…" _

Without much else to do, Link smiles tiredly and enjoys the bliss lapping at his brain. "Well. Thanks for that."

It's a joke, yet Rhett is hesitant to laugh.  _ "'Thanks'...?" _

"That was… uhh," chuckles Link, "all because of you."

_ "So… I didn't like… weird you out, or?" _

"Mmm. No," Link decides. He really doesn't want to open his eyes. "We were both kinda… y'know. More blood in our dicks than our heads."

_ "Oh, thank God,"  _ Rhett deflates hard enough for Link to giggle.  _ "Still… kinda weird. Sorry about it." _

"It's really okay. I liked it."

The mess needs to be cleaned up, Link knows. He almost can't be bothered to even open his eyes again. The phone is scorching his cheek and slick with sweat.

_ "Would you, like… mind if I tried it, when I got back?" _

Link purses his lips at the ceiling, switching them to and fro in thought. "If you really wanna, yeah. I'd ask you to wear a condom though."

_ "Na—not what I meant!" _

The indignant stuttering is exactly the reaction Link is looking for, and he accepts it with a victorious smirk. "I know. Yeah, I'll clean the dildo." He hesitates, imagining smuggling it into the dorm bathroom. "Somehow."

_ "Or… I dunno. Maybe  _ you _ could wear a condom?" _

Link's eyes do open, in fact, to gawk through a field of blush at the wall. "What? Really…?"

_ "I mean… if we're just gonna be curious about it together anyway,"  _ Rhett mumbles softly.

Link is half-hard again by the time he works up the courage to respond. The thought of making Rhett feel what he just felt...?

"Yeah. Okay." 


End file.
